


Feeble Happiness

by Hasegawa



Series: The Angst of Timothy Drake [4]
Category: DCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Other, Timothy Drake needs a hug, Timothy's angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21832579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hasegawa/pseuds/Hasegawa
Summary: After failing a business project, Tim was in no right mind and he ended up in a very bad car accident.His soul was found by the Ancient One.Tim as Dr. Steven Strange
Series: The Angst of Timothy Drake [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1573165
Comments: 6
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another unfinished WIP wheee. 
> 
> Basically, Tim became Dr. Steven Strange. and then helping the Avengers. Nope. Change of plan. Tim became the Janitor in the Kamar-Taj. 
> 
> While his family searching for him (or are they?)

The mistake was so small and insignificant for Tim. But it wasn't insignificant for the company.

They lost ten and half a billion dollar in a day. Because the project fell apart.

He was standing across the meeting table, unable to answer the furious, jabbing questions from the investors or the board. Bruce was sitting beside him and Lucius sat beside Bruce. Both were trying to gain control of the room; to no avail. Tim was still there, standing like a fool because he didn't know what to do, or to say.

It was his fault. It was his project. It was supposed to be simple. It was... it's just all the necessary work was not done properly. Tim could count times when he made excuses for it. Tim didn't redo the budget calculation because he was oh so tired from taking care of Jason's problematic drug trafficking problem. He didn't check the progress because Damian's taunt that night made him angry enough to let everything off and just went to sleep. He didn't see the mistake because he was busy taking care of Batman's unsolved cases—which Bruce asked him to do. He didn't make time to make a better preparation because Dick asked Tim for a movie night with the other boys—and Tim missed it when Dick treated him like the part of family.

Tim wanted to cry. He was humiliated fully in front of the people he used to-and need to- impress.

He wanted to turn back time and redo today. Nay, he would rather redo the whole year.

The year hadn't been kind to Tim. He cursed the day he took over Wayne company for Bruce. He had chew more than what he could. And now he is fully humiliated.

Worthlessness filled his head. _Stop it_ , Tim whispered to himself. _Stop it. You cannot show your worthlessness here. You need to control it. You are a CEO, not Timothy Fucking Worthless Drake._

“I understand.” Tim finally spoke, and the room turned to silent.

“Please accept my resignation.”

The room roared and people accused him of running away. Some asked him to rethink his decision, while one bald man shouted, good riddance. Bruce looked once at Tim, then resumed to take control of the situation. Lucius looked like he was giving up and shook his head.

Tim shrugged. “I am sorry.” he whispered, so only Bruce and Lucius could hear him. Or maybe they don't hear him anyway. “I am sorry... I am sorry I am so useless.”

and with that, he left the room. Without his phone, without his laptop, just out from the room.

He hid inside his office. Tim locked the door, and sat on his big table.

He was nineteen. Tomorrow he would be twenty. But there would be no tomorrow, would it?

He failed. He failed again. And he didn't know what to do to make it right. He hated that. His uselessness shining though failure. And to think he had the arrogance to believe he was competent CEO, a marvelous vigilante. What a joke. Tim was just that—a pathetic child who can do nothing but pretending to be someone he was not. His life is crumbling and Tim should have known.

He wasn't fucking perfect. Unlike Dick, who had better relationship, charisma and talent Tim could only dream of. Unlike Jason, whom Bruce loved so much because Jason was brash and brave. Unlike the real son Damian, whom knows and self-assured about his Batman and Wayne Legacy. Unlike Cass who is the most loved daughter of all. Unlike Barbara, who is competent in everything she does. Unlike Steph, who has life and happiness shining through from her pores.

He was Tim, a pathetic, good for nothing son---no, maybe not son. Just the pretender.

He was fucking tired of it. And he wanted to cry.

Bruce suddenly opened the door. And stood there.

Tears were already pooling on Tim's eyelid, and he chocked.

“Tim.”

“Bru...Bruce.” Tim chocked. “I.. I am sorry.”

Tim wanted his dad. He wanted to be hug. He wanted someone telling him it's fine. One mistake wasn't that big. But he knew better when he saw Bruce turned, left the room and closed the door behind him. He saw Tim's tears and thought Tim was so weak. It must have disgusted him.

Tim cried freely after, screaming his heart out.

He tried, he really tried to be the best he could for the Bats. But it wasn't enough. Not enough for Bruce to hug him or calm him down, at least.

Tim was hopeless and he wanted out.

Tim woke up sore. He had fallen asleep on his desk after crying. He saw the clock and it was two in the morning.

The office was silent, nobody was there. Nobody called him. They let him has his privacy in the room.

Maybe they just don't care about a little pathetic boy's breakdown.

Tim walked out of the office, didn't bothering to lock the door. He took the lift down, then walked to his car. The black sedan wasn't flashy at all, and Tim was proud of it. It was the symbol of how 'down-to-earth' his take as CEO was. But today, it mocked him.

Tim took the car out of the parking lot. The security let him out of the compound, and Tim drove.

Anywhere but here, his mind answered when he wondered where he should go.

And it was then he saw the truck too late. He rammed right into a truck from opposite side.

When the crash happened, Tim could only think how bad the press would be for Wayne Family.

What a useless son... no, a useless pretender Tim was.

Tim saw his body on the operating table.

The monitor was slow and beeping was soft. There were at least 4 surgeons, all of them working tensely on his body. Tim wondered why they tried so hard, when he himself doesn't want to return?

He flew outside the room, and saw the corridor was empty.

What did he expect? Of course the family doesn't care enough to wait for him. Tim died? Good riddance. They don't need Tim anyway. The annoying useless pretender is gone.

“Don't you want to return to your body?” a voice asked.

Tim turned to see a lady, a soul, just like him, levitating. She looked sort of strange, like a monk with bald head, serene face—and a necklace on her chest.

Tim shook his head. “I am not worthy of it.”

“But Time told me you are.” The woman spoke again. She seemed to think for a while and then opened out her arm to Tim. “Why don't you come with me?”

“Why?”

“Why not?” She smiled back.

Tim wondered for a split of second. And then he took her hand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I fell for a new pairing : Tim drake / Kaecilius. 
> 
> HA!

Tim never thought he would end up here, in all places. 

He did go to Nepal and Tibet when he was searching for a glimpse of Bruce, trying to get Batman back. But it was a mission of utmost importance, to find Bruce and return him back to Gotham. But now? He has no mission. He has no order to be here. He was doing it not because of Bruce or the Bats or any mission. He was there because he chose not to return to his own body. 

The Wise One smiled at him, but returned to her reading. Tim, meanwhile, was given the duty to mop the entire library out of dust. The library itself is the size of a small mansion--rows and rows filled with ancient text (which Tim salivated upon, but found he couldne even read most of them for the language used was even older than Latin, or at least already dead several decades). And dust. So much dust. Which, Tim believed, ever since the library was founded, only been cleaned out twice. Imagine the dust there, even the dust has dust on them. It was exaggerated with Tim’s need to be perfect; and even though ‘mop’ is a specific word, Tim aims to obliterate dust from the whole library. 

The Wise One just raised a non existing eyebrow and chuckled. She was annoying like that, Tim found. 

Tim has started his mission for the past week--past fortnight? He didn't really remember. He was given a body--looks nothing like him;shaved head, no eyebrows, button nose and round eyes (They are greyish, almost an eerie parody of his old ice blue eyes)-- wearing nothing but a modest ugly, old, yellow robe. He was short (he suspects The Wise One was making fun of him. Just because of that, he was sorely tempted to call The Wise One, The Bald One). The lady has called his soul and offered him a place of solace, to rethink his decision, she said. Tim was already at the end of his mind; he didn't think there would be anyone needing him, and isn't that scary? What was Tim if not being needed or being on a mission? An empty boy, that’s it. And probably that’s why he took her hand. And ended up cleaning the entire library. 

Sometimes in between the “Flora” and “Time” library sections, Tim realized maybe she was taking him in as the janitor. 

Maybe it was true, or maybe Tim just thought too much, but now he still needs to scrub the grime and dust from the top shelves and he hated his height. Could The Wise One just give him a body of, Tim doesn't know , maybe a body like Michael Jordan who was 6’ 6” (1.98 m)? Tim wouldn’t need to stand on the stack of hard copies (Sorry, books. You may be some very priceless treasures, but since the library believes there is no need for a ladder, Tim needed something to stand on to reach those upper storages). But sometimes, even with the books leveraging him, Tim still couldn reach the top most of the shelves. 

“You could learn to ask for help.” a new voice, the one he never heard before, stood behind him and took the duster out of Tim’s hand. Tim turned to see a man; grey haired and older than hTim was; with eyes that looked dark and scaled, just like a lizard’s skin. Tim Blinked. 

“Thank you. But I can do it myself.” 

The man chuckled and let go, which made Tim lost his balance and almost fell down; yes he was saved by the man’s mercy of stabilizing his body. 

“Are you new? Never seen you before.” 

‘Oh, I am nobody, just the glorified janitor’ Tim mussed inside his head but he knew his manner from being trapped in so many galas; so he nodded a little. “Nice to meet you, I am Tim.” 

“Kaecilius.” he answered back. 

“... Are you alright?” Tim asked instead,because his eyes looked dark and bloodshot, and the dark lizard skin around it didn't help too. 

“Why?” The man asked back. 

“Pardon me, but your eyes, they are bleeding.” Tim whispered, as he watched the trickle of blood come out of the eye sockets. The man blinked and a second later, there was no blood, no lizard skin, just normal human eyes, in the darkest of gold. 

“My apologies. I have shown you some improper things.” he said. And Tim was ticked about it. 

Was it an illusion? Maybe it was what to do with this strange place--everything is weird, he kinda thinks he was in hogwarts library. 

“None taken. I don’t think it’s improper. One should not hide himself too much.” Tim immediately answered and was floored with his own words. Wasn’t that ironic ? He was the one losing his soul for trying to be perfect all the time and look where it brought him. Now, not even a week--a fortnight? Tim couldn't tell the time-- he was advising people on how to be true to themselves. 

He was in wonder about how good a menial task is to one reflective ability, and maybe The Wise One was actually that--  _ wise _ . 

****

It was the start of a wonderful companionship. hTim just realised that for the length of his cleaning the library he has never spoken a word to anyone else--even The Wise One was just reading her script and drinking her tea, while Tim slowly moved one section by section. And then he realised too, that Tim wasn't hungry or thirsty and he hasn't slept in what, a week? A fortnight? His body seemed like one of those homunculus that doesn't need normal human sustenance. 

Kaecilius came for every five sections Tim cleaned; he was silent and prideful to a fault, but also sensitive and determined to help. He was also, of lack of better words,  _ lonely _ . Tim understood that to the dot. He was Tim, when he was still alive. It was like looking into a mirror, albeit a  _ taller  _ mirror. And after second meetings (of the same nature--he was always there when Tim tries to clean up the upper shelves), has a wicked, dry humor. Just like Tim’s taste. So they connected just based on that. 

Tim followed him looking for books on parallel dimensions and time, and then slowly realised Kaecilius was trying to find the connection between these dimensions and others. Sometimes the intensity of which he was searching became too scary for Tim’s liking, so he ragged the man to other sections, lighter sections, such as Dairy food sections (Tim just try to make do, alright? There were no knitting sections) and Geographical things. They don't have natural Geographics magazines like normal libraries, but they have scrolls of maps and pictures of pretty olden days scenery. 

At first, Kaecilius looked he wanted to murder Tim for being so annoying, but lately he just looked at Tim fondly. 

And Tim just realised whenever Kaecilius was around. The Wise One was never there. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be domestic. I wish it will be domestic. I will still be angsty, but I want domestic. somehow Tim is slowly turning into Will Graham in my mind.

**Author's Note:**

> unfinished :)


End file.
